“Jue Seeno is devoted to N’Rae, but her mannerisms are somewhat abrupt. And you make her a bit nervous.”
“I make her nervous?”
“Decidedly so. Now, are you finished with that tea?” She held out her hand. “Give me the mug. I’ll leave you to your sleep.”
Taking the mug with her, she swept out of the room, saying over her shoulder, “Don’t fret. Trust!”
Amazingly, he put his head down on the pillow and fell into a deep sleep. In the middle of the night, he rolled over and opened his eyes. For a moment he thought he saw a mouse sitting on the windowsill in the moonlight. But he blinked, and it was gone.
Jue Seeno? No, she wouldn’t be out and about disguised as a mouse. He grinned at the very idea and went back to sleep.
When golden sunlight, instead of the pale glow of the moon, poured through the curtains, Bardon got out of bed stiffly, stretching his muscles with slow, deliberate movements. By the time he shaved and dressed, he could walk without wincing. He joined the ladies for breakfast in the private parlor, and a cup of Granny Kye’s tea finished the job of alleviating the discomfort in his body.
“May I go with you to find passage to Ianna?” asked N’Rae. “We’ll go on the river, won’t we?”
“No, you may not come. Yes, we shall go by the Gilpen River, but the docks are no place for you.” Bardon saw her look of disappointment. “If I find a ship quickly, I’ll return and take you to the market streets.” He turned to include Granny Kye and Mistress Seeno. “Wouldn’t you ladies like to look for some new clothing? You should have something new for everyday wear and perhaps garments suitable for rough traveling.”
He was rewarded for his suggestion. N’Rae’s face took on a flush of pleasure. “Grandmother, can we? Does this mean I’ll get to wear britches?”
“Yes.” Granny Kye watched Bardon stand and push his chair back under the table. “Do you have sisters, young man?”
“Not that I know of. Why?”
“Because you seem to know a lot about what makes young women happy.”
Jue Seeno squeaked, and Bardon bent closer to the table.
“It could,” the minneken said, “also mean he spent a lot of time pleasing the ladies at the Castle Pelacce.”
Bardon straightened abruptly, his face burning. He heard N’Rae giggle as he left the room.
What a pleasure it will be to visit the docks where none of the men have manners, none of the men have bathed recently, and none of the men giggle! He hurried through the hall and out onto the cobblestone street.
As he approached the riverway, the houses became less well groomed, as did the people. He stopped in a tavern to have a drink and listen to the news. He heard of a small vessel departing the next day and headed out to find the captain. He soon had made arrangements for them to board the ship that night. The Morning Lady would weigh anchor before dawn the next day.
The shopping trip with the women tried his patience. He had managed to secure information and passage in less than an hour. The women spent that much time just deciding which street of shops they would visit first. Then they discussed whether Jue Seeno would accompany them or wait at the inn. The prospect of a servant finding the basket and, out of curiosity, peeking inside terrified them. They decided the minneken would go with them but stay in her basket and wait until they returned to view their purchases.
After making the mistake of entering the first haberdashery with the lady shoppers, Bardon waited outside the other stores. He tried to admire the stamina and cheerful attitudes of the two women as they tramped from one establishment to the next and back to compare the quality and price of certain merchandise. He smiled politely at the citizens of Norst who noticed the unusual sight of two country-dressed emerlindians touring the shopping district. By midafternoon he decided he wasn’t as wise as Granny Kye had intimated. Surely, a wise man would have avoided this expedition.
He gladly toted the packages back to the inn when Granny Kye said they had purchased the few items they would need. The women inspected their purchases, showing the new clothing to Jue Seeno. Bardon thought the little minneken showed a far more pleasant demeanor as she gave her opinion.
“A woman may appear to value things above all else, but don’t try to steal her offspring, friend, or mate.” Principle eighty-seven. And this, Scribe Moran said, was what made women so hard to interpret.
After they ate a quick supper, Granny Kye insisted they could walk to the pier, but Squire Bardon ordered a horse-drawn vehicle to be their transportation. After a short ride, they boarded the Morning Lady, a passenger ship also hauling a cargo of textiles.
Bardon settled his charges in their cabin and then retired to his own. When he pulled the bunk down from the wall, he could barely turn around. Backing into the bulkhead, he scraped his shoulder. The rough wood left splinters in the cloth of his shirt.
Shouldn’t that wood be painted? He tried to reach over his back to assess the damage and bumped his head on the shoulder, a brace of wood that joined the bulkhead to the overhead. Rubbing his head, he mumbled, “I now know for a fact that I’ve been spoiled by venturing out to sea on one of Sir Dar’s sloops. The ceiling in this hold is too low, the walls are too close, and the light is abominable.”
He fished book two of his Tomes of Wulder from his pack and began to read, finding comfort in the succinct wisdom of the principles and in the ritual of setting his heart to uphold those principles. The real purpose of this exercise was not to refresh his memory of the written words, but rather to regain his focus. In the past several days, he had found himself so busy dealing with problems that he had often proceeded without tagging each action with an appropriate principle.
The scribes and mentors said that one day the words repeated with the mind would be ingrained in the heart, and the need for constant rehearsal would diminish. Bardon thought that would never happen for him.
After reading until the candle guttered, he blew out the sputtering flame, put the book on the table, and scooted down into the covers. The air over the water permeated the small cabin and chilled him. He pulled the blanket up to his chin. The inn’s accommodations had definitely been more comfortable.
At least the ladies have a finer cabin, but I bet they’re cold. Curled slightly for warmth, he listened to the creaks of the wooden ship and the faint lapping of the water.
Peaceful for now. But soon we will embark on a quest. I have never heard of a peaceful quest. If I expect giant serpents, evil minions of the devious Wizards Cropper and Stox, and perhaps interference from a troop of bisonbecks, will I be better prepared?
Wulder, I ask that You keep me alert, ever prepared to meet the challenges of this journey, and capable of protecting these ladies. And then I ask that You allow nothing to cross our path that would test my alertness, preparedness, or capabilities. Thank You, Wulder, for Your gift of this time and this place.
A skittering sound roused him from his slumber. With eyes open, he lay still, for he felt certain the noise had come from within his cabin. His hand moved to embrace the handle of his hunting knife. He slipped the finely honed blade out of the sheath.
A slight thump on the mattress puzzled him, and he almost quit breathing in order to listen.
Mistress Seeno’s small voice whispered in his ear. “Squire Bardon, get up and arm yourself. A quiss has come on board.”
12
A RENEGADE QUISS
“Meet me on deck when you’re dressed,” Mistress Seeno said as she jumped to the floor. Her gray blue cape fluttered around her chubby form as she scampered across the wood planks and slipped under the door.
One quiss? I thought they traveled in hordes. He pulled on his britches and stuck his feet in his boots. I suppose it is possible a quiss could be this far inland. It could have become disoriented and followed the river. But alone? I thought they came out of the ocean en masse every three years. He buckled on his sword belt, stuck his hunting knife in its sheath, and grabbed a short quiver full of dar
ts. Don’t quiss harass the northeast coast, not the southwest? He opened the door and entered the dark hallway. Perhaps it isn’t a quiss at all.
He crept up the ladder and surveyed the deck before stepping out of the open hatch.
How am I supposed to find a little minneken before I find this intruder?
A movement along the wall caught his eye. Jue Seeno emerged from the shadows, scurried across the wood deck, and leapt for his leg. He found it disconcerting to have her scramble up the outer seam of his britches, up the side of his shirt, and onto his shoulder.
She panted. Tiny puffs of hot air tickled his jaw line.
“One dead. Around the corner. Very unpleasant sight.” She shuddered. “I believe the quiss has gone to the stern, toward the quarterdeck. We must hurry if we are to save lives.”
Bardon had never seen firsthand what the ocean creatures could do, but he’d come across accounts in books and heard tales from seasoned warriors. As one of the seven low races, quiss rivaled the blimmets in their ability to quickly destroy a target. However, blimmets fought with more vicious, mad-animal vigor. Quiss moved slowly. The danger lay in their numerous, boneless arms. Quiss encircled their victims with these muscular appendages, each having three rows of suction cups running from shoulder to tip. In the center of each cup, a sharp and hollow tongue the size of a large needle squirmed, tasting the air, searching for flesh to penetrate.
Bardon edged to the corner and cautiously peered around. On the deck a heap of clothing marked the spot where a seaman had gone down in the clutches of the intruder. Nothing moved in the area, so Bardon crept toward the figure. At first sight of the dead man’s face, he swallowed to keep the bile from rising in his throat. He no longer doubted that a quiss lurked somewhere on the ship.
The victim’s flesh and blood had been sucked from his body. An empty bag of skin draped the skeleton. Pinpricks in the center of inch-wide, red circles lined the corpse wherever skin showed.
Bardon tried not to breathe. His ears strained to hear the slight swish of an almost entirely boneless body. Only two appendages from the trunk of the body contained enough cartilage to be used as legs. He remembered gruesome tales told in the dormitory. They usually ended with a quiss arm writhing out from a dark corner and snatching a helpless boy.
Once a victim fell into the clutches of a quiss, the thousand tongues stabbed. Hopefully, the last thing the unfortunate soul felt was the pricks of the beast’s tongues. The quiss then injected its poisonous saliva, which broke down flesh into a soft mush, and sucked all the soft tissue until the skin was nothing more than a sack for the bones.
Each hair on Bardon’s arms and the back of his neck stood on end as a tremor of horror ran across his skin. He turned away from the sailor, blinked, swallowed, and took a deep breath.
“Which way did you say it went, Mistress Seeno?”
“Look down, to your right.”
In the eerie light of a half moon, he saw a dark, sketchy trail like a mass of inky lines entangling solid footprints. The beast walked upright on two legs with its many arms trailing. With another shock of revulsion, Bardon realized the dark lines would be red in the sunlight. The creature oozed the fluids of its last meal.
“Don’t touch that,” warned Jue Seeno.
“I know.” Bardon held his breath. “I know it’s poisonous.”
“Even the smell will become toxic soon.”
“It’ll smell worse than this?”
“Definitely.”
“Let’s get rid of this creature. I’m already tired of his company.”
Bardon drew his sword and followed, careful not to step on the slimy trail. The sound of a man struggling put an end to his caution. He ran from the shadows of the quarterdeck with his sword raised, ready to strike. Jue Seeno squeaked and leapt from his shoulder, landing on a barrel and shouting a cheer, “Skewer it through and through, young man! Don’t let it get the best of you!”
“To arms!” Bardon shouted. “To arms!”
He did not wait for an answer to his call for help but sprinted across the deck. The quiss, with its bulbous head and flailing arms, all but covered a small, wiry man. With a downward swing, Bardon sliced open the back of the creature. The ease with which his sword penetrated the body of the quiss surprised him.
I’ll have to be careful not to cut through this beast and into the sailor.
A brief glimpse of the seaman’s face as the quiss twirled toward its attacker told Bardon he need not worry about the man’s fate. His sword could no longer injure the sailor.
Behind him, Bardon heard the heavy footsteps of men, shouts of dismay, and the voice of the captain issuing orders. He hoped Jue Seeno had made it below deck without being seen.
The longer, heavier arms of the quiss squeezed its victim. The shorter, more limber appendages whipped out at the young squire. Bardon swung his sword in an arc and lopped off the closest threatening arms. Pulling back, he placed both hands on the hilt of his weapon and with a lunge, skewered the beast clean through. The force of the blow pushed the speared quiss and sailor back against a rail. The sword tip stuck in the wood. The remaining smaller arms thrashed the air. The larger arms continued to embrace the dead man. Slowly, the violent thrashing of the creature subsided. Its body quivered.
Bardon stepped back. He left the sword impaling the quiss and the corpse. A crowd now stood upon the deck. Hushed murmurs rustled behind him, but the young squire did not take his eyes off the tangled mass of squirming tentacles. Instead, he drew his hunting knife as if the creature would somehow escape certain death, free itself from the sword, and spring at him.
It opened its eyes and focused on him. The small orbs looked strangely like those of one of the high races except for the lack of hair on the brow and lid. Its expression filled Bardon with sorrow.
The eyes shifted to something beyond the squire. Bardon turned slightly to find N’Rae standing beside him. A nightgown and a voluminous shawl swathed her slight frame. She stared at the dying creature. Bardon knew that look. He put his arm around her quaking shoulders. In a moment the creature closed its eyes. Its body became still.
“He’s dead,” N’Rae whispered.
After sheathing the hunting knife, Bardon stepped forward and wrenched his sword from the two corpses. They fell as one to the deck.
“Bardon.” N’Rae’s voice trembled. “Take me away from here. Take me back to Granny Kye and Jue Seeno.”
With his arm around her waist, he awkwardly guided her through the crowd. He didn’t want to put the soiled sword into its scabbard.
The first mate intercepted them. “I’d be honored to clean your weapon for you, Squire Bardon. The captain said to extend his thanks. He’s busy now calming both the passengers and the crew, and setting up a more vigilant watch. Never heard the likes of this.” He shook his shaggy head in wonderment and held out his hand for the sword. “I’ll return it to you in a trice. We’re blessed you were aboard when this happened. Can’t imagine such a thing taking place this far up the Gilpen River.”
Bardon handed him the sword and then continued with N’Rae, seeking the sanctuary of Granny Kye’s cabin.
The old emerlindian greeted them and took N’Rae in her arms, hugging the pale girl tightly before sitting her on the edge of the bunk bed.
She patted Bardon’s arm and nodded toward a shelf, where Jue Seeno sat at her small table, sipping from a cup. Even the minneken looked shaken.
“Mistress Seeno told me,” said Granny Kye. “What is the world coming to when one of those creatures ventures out by itself? It was an unnatural act, and you can be sure those two, Crim Cropper and Burner Stox, are behind it.”
N’Rae sobbed. Granny promptly sat down beside her and pulled her close. “There now, infant. We’re not likely to meet another of its kind once we get to the Northern Reach.”
The young emerlindian nodded and tried to speak, but only a garbled, throaty wail came out.
Granny continued to pat. The minneken squeaked.
“What was that?” asked Bardon as he moved closer to hear.
“Give her some tea.”
Bardon looked around and saw the kettle on a small iron stove. He went to pour the hot water on tea leaves already in the bottom of a mug, but he found the kettle needed to be centered on the hot plate and reheated. He searched the cabinet for a spoon and sugar. His hand rested on a glass jar filled with white crystals, but N’Rae’s voice stopped him before he lifted the container.
“It spoke to me.”
Granny Kye gasped. “The quiss?”
Bardon turned to see the young emerlindian nodding her head so forcefully her hair flung about her.
“What did it say, dear?” asked Granny Kye.
“It was miserable. So distraught. Not about dying. It wanted to die.”
Bardon crossed the room and knelt before N’Rae. He took both her hands in his and looked up at her tear-stained face. “Why was it here?”
“It was trying to get away—away from an evil man and an evil woman. The picture in its mind was of hundreds of quiss, herded into an underground cavern full of water, trapped in the dark, and taken one by one to some unknown place of terror. And always, the evil man and woman glaring. The man had knives. The woman laughed.”
13
DOWN THE GILPEN
Bardon hated to press, but she knew more. The haunted look in her eyes told him so. “Is that all you saw, N’Rae?”
She shook her head and took a deep breath. “It was young. In his mind, he referred to himself as one of the young ones. He hurt, and all the young ones born in the man’s laboratory were suffering.
“I saw them gasping and writhing in pain. I felt the pain. They had lungs that the old ones did not, and the lungs hurt.” N’Rae hugged herself, curling forward, and rocking as if she felt the agony of the quiss.
“I saw images of the gills of the young ones and flashes of gills on the old ones. They were so close to being the same, but the gills on the young ones gaped and became oozy.”